


These Things Are Known

by Ruusverd



Series: Echoes of the Fall AU [3]
Category: Echoes of the Fall - Adrian Tchaikovsky, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bronze Age AU, F/M, shapeshifter AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25729669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruusverd/pseuds/Ruusverd
Summary: Yennefer and Geralt have a conversation in the Snake's temple in Atahlan.Another installment of my Echoes of the Fall AU.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Echoes of the Fall AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863010
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	These Things Are Known

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't make Yen a Snake because I think she's evil or snakelike, the Snake is actually both the most powerful and most benevolent of the 'gods' in the books. Plus the Snake priests are semi-immortal (in a bizarre die-and-get-an-instant-new-body sort of way) and run around pulling strings and being the power behind the throne, so it really fits the role of Mages in the Witcher.

Geralt stomped into the rooms he shared with Yennefer and threw a bag of coins on the table as if it had personally offended him. Then he pulled off his long iron coat and tossed it carelessly over a chair, shortly followed by his bronze-plated bracers.

"Pyralter son of Pyralhad an uneventful journey, I take it?" Yennefer asked blandly. She wore her head uncovered within the privacy of their rooms, and her black curly hair stood out around her like a tornado of curls.

Geralt snorted, “The useless lump had so many guards we were getting in each other’s way, and there was never a hint of any actual threat. He thinks having an army of guards makes him seem more important.”

“These things are known: He is a useless lump and always has been,” Yen agreed, “I can’t think of anyone who would go to the trouble and expense of sending assassins after him. All who know himlive in dread of the day his father dies and Pyralter becomes Pyral.”

“I hate this place,” Geralt said, “Grown men waiting for their fathers to die before they can take an adult's name. Living idle in the meantime, knowing they'll inherit everything they need with no effort of their own."

"It is a bit more complicated than that,” Yennefer pointed out, “And those idle sons do pay well, you must admit. There's not half as much work to be had in the north for you, I'm sure,"

"In the Crown of the World work _means_ something," Geralt complained, "You hunt, you farm, you make things and trade them for other things you can’t make yourself. Here there are too many people, there's nothing to hunt and no space to grow crops. Everything has to be brought in from outside, the work is pointless, and all I get in return are useless pieces of metal," He glared at the bag of coins, "and everyone wants the gold pieces the most. The metal is useless, too soft to be of any use except to decorate things. It’s pure foolishness."

Yennefer sighed, "It’s tiresome when you pretend to be ignorant. Don't act like you don’t understand the currency system.”

“Maybe I don’t,” Geralt said just to be contrary, “It has no inherent value. You can’t eat it, you can’t make a tool, or a weapon, or armor from it. It just goes from hand to hand, or sits in a gleaming pile waiting for its owners to die so their children can spend it,” he sat down with a huff.

Yennefer started to look concerned, “I know you, Geralt. You're not actually angry about the coinage or the concept of inheritance. You’ve had plenty of time to get used to both.Talk to me, what are you truly upset about?"

"I _hate_ this place," Geralt repeated with emphasis, "There’s plenty of work, yes, but they only hire _me_ because they want to boast to their peers of having an _'exotic northern savage'_ in their retinue. Iron Wolves are legends to them, and I’m even more unusual than most," he pointed at the bag of coins, “Pyralter offered me twice that if I’d fight caged beasts at a party he’s hosting. For _entertainment.”_

Yennefer's mouth pinched, but she didn't dispute what Geralt said, "So that’s it. Did you offend him terribly with your refusal? I wouldn’t blame you if you did, but his father is important to our efforts in the Kasra’s palace and everyone knows you and I are close. What you do here reflects on me.”

“I’m just an ignorant northern savage, how should I know what these River Lords will take offense at?” he slouched, aware he sounded petulant and not caring, “No one cares that he offended _me,_ suggesting I dishonor the Wolf by killing captive beasts for sport.”

“You don't have to work if you find it so distasteful. The temple provides enough for both of us." Yennefer offered calmly.

Geralt growled, got up from the chair and stalked to the window, staring out at the city without seeing it. “I’m not a _dog,_ Yen. I can’t just lay on the floor at your feet waiting to be fed. The Wolf doesn’t approve of that either."

“No, he wouldn’t. These things are known: the Wolf much prefers ritual human sacrifice,” Yennefer said dryly, “Or at least that’s what I hear.”

“He does _not,”_ Geralt said heatedly. He knew Yennefer was trying to distract him by baiting him, but he let himself be drawn into the argument anyway, “All the Wolf wants is a clean hunt, a simple life, and strong hunters working together for the good of the pack. All the rest is priests’ nonsense to feed their own ambitions.”

“Bold of you, to claim you alone know the true desire of the Wolf for his people and all the priests are wrong.”

“I have little reason to trust priests. Power hungry, cruel, and manipulative, all of them.”

“I should take offense, I think,” Yennefer walked up behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders, trying to gently work the tension out of the knotted muscles, “But I can’t blame you for thinking so, after what the Wolf’s priests did to you. Trying to force a powerful, ancient soul to bend to their will just so that the Wolf could have a Champion was idiotic and vile by any standards,” her tone was harsh but her hands remained gentle. Geralt knew the anger wasn’t directed at him, but at those long-dead priests.

“The Champion had his revenge for their presumption,” Geralt said grimly, “He cut them down before they could even Step and left their souls to rot, trapped in human shells and unable to go back to the Wolf. I don’t think anyone else will be trying that again.”

“They deserved it,” Yen said firmly, “Even if the Champion could be dismissed as the actions of a few rogue heretics, the others of their sect aren’t much better. I’ve seen the marks left behind by the rite of iron.” He felt her fingers trailing down his back, as if even through his clothes she could trace the lines of savage puncture scars that ran in double rows along each side of his spine and down the backs of his legs.

Geralt had never seen the marks on his own back, but he knew what they must look like. He’d seen them mirrored on the backs of his brothers and mentors. Every Iron Wolf bore those same scars. He shuddered slightly, his mind dragging up remembered sensations of choking incense, bitter potions,gnawing hunger, and helpless agony. “Don’t, Yen,” he turned to put his back to the wall, “It’s over and done, it doesn’t matter.”

In wordless apology, she put her arms around him and rested her cheek against his chest. “Without your attunement to iron you might not have lived long enough to be here with me now, so for that I’m grateful. That doesn’t mean it isn’t a barbaric practice.”

Geralt shrugged, trying to push it all back to the corner of his mind where he kept unpleasant things, “An Iron Wolf has to be forged like the metal itself, it has to be beaten into a useful shape and pushed to the point of destruction in order to come out strong enough not to shatter,” he repeated from memory.

“Nonsense. If you really believed that, you would have bowed your head and joined another tribe when your own was destroyed. You might even have become a chief by now. You’re strong in spite of what they did, not because of it. Wolves aren’t meant to be alone, you wouldn’t have lived so long apart if there wasn’t a strong reason,” she pulled back to look at him sternly, “And do not tell me about the silly Crow and the Horse, that’s not the same and you know it.”

Geralt laughed softly, then sobered, “I don’t know, Yen. I can only follow the Wolf inside me. He won’t stay with the Wolf’s tribes, but I can’t feel him here, either. The city drives him out.”

“I’m sorry, Geralt. I wish we could go, but I _can’t_ leave now. The Kasra is losing the support of the River Lords, and there are rumors that the son of the old Kasra has reappeared and is gathering allies to try and reclaim the Daybreak Throne. Things are too uncertain for me to leave.”

Geralt put on an exaggerated southern accent, “These things are known: the Snake has ruled the Sun River Nation from behind the Daybreak Throne since the beginning. What does it matter who is Kasra?”

“We _guide_ the Kasra according to the wisdom the Snake provides to us, we don’t control him like a puppet,” Yennefer corrected primly, “And we have no idea at all what sort of man is claiming to be the true heir to the throne, or how likely he is to succeed in claiming it. We have to ensure that any power struggles do not spill out of the palace.”

“Settle it the wolf way,” Geralt suggested, “Throw the two of them in a ring and let them fight it out.”

Yennefer snorted, “If only we could, it would be much simpler. They’d rather send hundreds of soldiers to their deaths than risk their own necks face to face.A civil war here wouldn’t just bring death and destruction to the Tsotec, it would spread over the world like a wildfire, possibly even to your beloved north. We have to try to keep it contained.You may think it’s just more priests’ manipulations, but it’s important work. I can’t turn my back and run away. Not until things are settled one way or the other.”

Geralt nodded, disappointed but not surprised. He gently stroked his hand over her hair, callouses catching slightly on the dark curls, “You can’t leave, I understand. But I don’t know how long I can bear to stay, even for you. Whatever else may or may not be inside me, I’ve been a wolf all my life. I can’t be anything else,” he pulled her into another hug and she went willingly, “I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

“I know. I’m sorry I can’t leave.”

“I don’t regret it,” he said softly, “tying our souls together, I mean. I’ll never regret it.”

“I don’t regret it either,” she replied, just as soft, “I’d never wish to undo it, even if you insulted every River Lord from here to Tsokawan.”

Geralt chuckled, “Don’t tempt me, I might take it as a challenge.”

She pulled back and slapped his chest lightly, laughing, “Don’t you dare!”

They smiled at each other for a moment, then Yennefer’s smile faded and she reached up to cup his face in her hands, “It’s all right, Geralt. You’re right, this is no place for a wolf, and I wouldn’t see your soul smothered for all the world. Go north and find what peace you can. You’re not abandoning me; our souls are bound together, through life and death and life again. No distance will change that. Just come back to me as often as you can bear it.”

“I will,” he promised, “I’m due to claim my Child of Surprise from the Xin’trae in two years, and I heard from one of the Horse Society that the child is a girl. Perhaps I’ll bring her here once I’ve claimed her, since I don’t have a home among the Wolf’s people to take her to.”

Yennefer smiled, “I’d like that. Perhaps things will have calmed down by that time, and we’ll be able to travel together again for a while.” A bell sounded outside the temple, and Yennefer stepped back reluctantly, “I need to go. Will you be here when I get back?”

“Yes, it’ll take me a few days to turn this coin into things I can use or trade with up north.”

“Good. I’ll see you later then,” she kissed him briefly, then grabbed the head covering the Snake’s priests wore in public and wound it around her head with practiced movements.

Geralt watched her adjust the cloth until she was satisfied, then Stepped to his wolf’s shape as she turned to leave. He let the simpler mind of the animal come to the front and drown out some of the noise in his head. It might be dangerous to let the wolf have too much control for too long, but it was a welcome form of short term relief. The wolf moved to the corner of the room and laid down, unhappy to be confined by stone walls but not concerned with much else. He looked up at Yennefer and whined softly.

“It really is all right,” she told him softly, pausing with one hand on the door, “I’m not angry at you for doing what you need to.”

The wolf thumped his tail against the floor in response and laid his head on his paws, closing his eyes with a sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the rite of iron is a canon thing, it does leave that pattern of scarring, and it is Nasty. Works very well as the equivalent of the Witcher mutations, though the victims were a bit older and I don't think the death rate was as high.


End file.
